


Only In Dreams

by shadow_prince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A whole lot of feelings, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bard Remus, Caught you off guard with that last one didn't I, Forbidden Love, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Prince Regulus, Prince Sirius, Rimming, Sirius Black Fest, Yearning, aching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-27 09:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_prince/pseuds/shadow_prince
Summary: What if we rewrite the stars?Say you were made to be mineNothing could keep us apartYou'd be the one I was meant to find.Prince and bard fall in love and ache with the pain of a love never meant to see the light of day.





	Only In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixelated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelated/gifts).

> Thank you to the mods for putting on this wonderful fest, I'm very excited to get to participate for the first time. To my beta Chromat1cs for very patiently correcting my misuse of the same word over and over. All remaining mistakes are my own, and most likely the result of frenzied last minute additions. To pixelated, for helping me when I scrapped my original fic two weeks before the deadline, for indulging in my idea of a prince and a bard falling in love, and talking me through meeting this deadline right until the very end.
> 
> And of course, to may_g for the prompt: [Rewrite The Stars](https://open.spotify.com/track/78nplE9X2ZGvQh3TKgvldE?si=FROnewjyR_6Y0ejgJHZhkA)

_What if we rewrite the stars?_  
_ Say you were made to be mine _  
_ Nothing could keep us apart _  
_You'd be the one I was meant to find._

✧

Sirius stopped mid sentence, fork hovering over the plate and laden with rich food, as the musician troupe entered the hall. His eyes tracked their progress between the long tables, the bells that adorned their ankles and clothing mixing into the conversations that rose and fell.

There was one in particular who drew the prince’s eye, even as he tried be casual and not draw notice to his pointed attention. Under the flickering candles and flashes of lightning through the long windows, the musician’s hair glowed like polished brass. It fell in long ringlet curls and was tied loosely with a scarlet ribbon at the base of neck beneath a feathered hat. Sirius felt his face flush as red as that ribbon when he noticed that the man was wearing a stunning waistcoat of deep reds and golds. One that Sirius had commissioned for the man.

He was right on how lovely the musician would look in it, heart clenching at the sight.

A hand waved in front of his face and Sirius startled, tearing his eyes away at last. His brother was frowning at him, eyes flicking toward the table on the dias where their parents were seated.

“If mother catches you making eyes at the musician she’ll have your head, brother.”

“Then you’d best keep your mouth shut, hadn’t you?” Sirius quipped, nervous despite his joking tone. His brother rolled his eyes but pursed his lips, saying no more on the subject. The two of them shared a drawing room between their quarters, it was hardly surprising when Regulus caught on to Sirius’ frequent visitor. The shocking part was the lack of disapproval, but Sirius wasn’t even to be credited with that astonishing fact.

Sirius’ eyes wandered back over to the man in question, plucking notes on his lute as he tuned it. Long legged dancers stretched around him and the flautist ran a trilling scale, warming her instrument. No—the credit for Regulus’ lack in disapproval fell squarely on the musicians shoulders for so thoroughly winning his brother’s friendship as well as Sirius’ affection.

When the entire troupe was warmed, tuned, and ready to perform, they bowed as one to the dias. Sirius and Regulus’ father, King Orion, waved a hand to signal they may begin and they struck up a lively song. Some members of the court twisted to watch the performance while others carried on their conversations. With the heavy clamour of the room to prevent him from being overheard, Regulus leaned close, but his eyes were fixed on the performance.

“I mean not that he is not worthy of a prince.”

“I know,” Sirius said.

“I mean only that you ought to be careful. Father couldn’t give a damn what lover you take as long as you do your duty to the crown, but mother…”

Against his will, Sirius’s eyes flicked toward the queen. Her chin was propped on a heavily jeweled hand, ice blue eyes sweeping the hall appraisingly. Sirius looked away quickly, returning his attention to his brother who studied him with just as critical a gaze. Unlike their mother’s though, when Regulus studied Sirius—deconstructed him like a puzzle to find the inner mechanism and figure out how he worked—he did so with a great amount of affection and concern. 

Regulus sighed in defeat. “I cannot say she wouldn’t have him killed.”

Sirius flinched, knowing it to be the truth. “I will be careful.”

“You have been remarkably careful.”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius lifted his mulled wine to his lips. “You needn’t say that with so much surprise.” Swallowing a hearty mouthful, he closed his eyes and savoured the warmth of alcohol and spice.

When he opened them a hint of a smile pulled at the edges of his brother’s lips but he didn’t give into it. “No really.” He took another bite of his food, eyes leaving Sirius to return to the performance. “And I have a theory as to why.”

Sirius hesitated, elbow resting on the table and wrist idly twisting the goblet in his hand so that the wine circled the glass like an ocean storm.

“This one matters to you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sirius replied hastily. 

Regulus hummed and raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you, though?” 

Not for the first time, Sirius thought Regulus should have been first-born. He had the strong square jaw of their father, the heavy eyebrows set over sharp grey eyes that missed nothing. He was calculating and commanding in his silent judgement of everything and everyone around him. He would make a good king. 

When Sirius glanced back toward the dias, their father was watching them, hand absently stroking his salt-and-pepper beard, and Sirius thought he wasn’t the only one with those thoughts that night.

Sirius and Regulus retired before the performance ended, as was their wont, walking side by side down the cold stone corridors trailed at a distance by their guards.

Once they were in the drawing room that connected their bedchambers, Regulus poured from the waiting wine a glass for them each and took a seat near the roaring fire, flames casting shadows on the planes of his pale features, rendering him older than the mere 17 years he was. 

“I’m right though.”

“You always think you’re right,” Sirius answered lightly, still dodging the topic.

His brother rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “You have never bothered to stop chasing your fleeting fancy when rolling in the mud with another.”

“Is that the technical term?”

“Yes it is.” Regulus leaned forward, propping his elbows on the knees of his breeches and staring with intent. “Just admit it, Sirius. This one matters to you.”

Sirius looked away from the grey eyes boring into his very soul.

A rapid pattern of knocks on the door cut off Sirius’ thoughts and saved him again from replying. He turned as the door swung open, his personal head of guard entered, a hand resting on the sword at his waist, and he was followed closely by a figure in a long dark cloak, hood pulled up to hide his face.

Sirius nodded. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Of course, my liege.” The man bowed first to Sirius and then to Regulus where he was still seated, before withdrawing and closing the door behind him.

“Speaking of the devil himself.”

“Not the devil, your highness.” The man withdrew his hood, smiling impishly before giving a grand bow to Regulus. “Simply yours truly.”

Regulus smiled indulgently and one would think him older than Remus in the doting way his eyes danced. The image took hold of something in Sirius’ chest and gave a sharp tug to the right. Heavy weights wrapped around his ankles and wrists, dragging him down beneath the crashing waves and drowning him in the _ what ifs _. Sirius suddenly never wanted to leave this room—wanted to forget that a kingdom existed outside of this room where warmth wrapped around his bones and warded of the encroaching chill of winter—wanted to remain where he had both Remus and Regulus and they were all allowed to simply exist as themselves.

When he rose from his chair Regulus was head and shoulders taller than the musician, clapping a large hand on his shoulder companionably as he passed. “Another wonderful performance tonight, Remus. Do try to keep it down and not give me an encore though, eh?”

Remus flushed and bit his lip to hide his smile, until Regulus’ door swung closed heavily behind him. Sirius held out his hand and Remus crossed the room, placing his own within Sirius’ and allowing himself to be gently pulled along toward Sirius’ private chambers. Sirius could feel the callouses on his finger tips from years of playing his lute, fingers accustomed to the work of the strings.

Closing the door behind them, Sirius deftly unfastened the clasp of Remus’ cloak. The fire in Sirius’ chambers was burning low and he crossed the room to throw more wood on until it roared high again, draping the cloak over a nearby chair to dry. Thunder rumbled long and low outside the castle as cold rain poured down from the cracked open sky.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Remus murmured. When Sirius turned, he saw the man was perched on the edge of his bed, one foot tucked below the other knee, watching him with solemn eyes and his head cocked to the side. Sirius moved to stand in front of him, cradling his face in both his hands and tilting it up, eyes searching—for what, he knew not. 

Remus waited patiently under his gaze. “Just thinking,” Sirius finally answered. He leaned down and pressed a slow chaste kiss to Remus’ waiting lips, before drawing back again. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius beat him to it. “This is such a handsome waistcoat, the colour really suits you, wherever did you get it?”

Remus huffed a small breath of frustration before giving into Sirius’ change of topic. “Why, thank you sir, isn’t it enchanting? The most doting and wonderful suitor gifted it to me.”

“Quite a beautiful gift, he must be rather smitten with you.”

“A love-struck fool, if I ever saw one,” Remus answered cheekily. Sirius grinned wildly, loving this absolutely mischievous little devil of a man all the more for having the audacity to call his prince a love-struck fool.

Sirius tackled him back onto the bed, the ribbon coming loose and splaying bronzed curls around him, Sirius’ hands bracketing Remus’ head as he held himself above so as to gaze upon the other man. Remus reached up and wrapped his hands around Sirius’ neck, thumbs reaching beneath his shirt to stroke his collarbone. 

“Tell me.”

He frowned. “Tell you what?”

“What is troubling you. Don’t shut me out,” Remus implored.

Sirius sighed. “Just thinking how much easier it would be if Regulus were heir.”

“But he isn’t. You are, my prince.”

“He should be. And not just because of this. It should be him.”

Remus shrugged one shoulder, bird like and apologetic. “But he isn’t. And there’s naught to be done.”

Sirius tightened his jaw, ducking his head and looking away. Remus tried to draw his face back up, but he fought it. “I’ll find a way,” he said stubbornly.

Sighing, Remus dropped his hands away. This wasn’t the first time they had had a conversation like this. Sirius had been drawing the musician into his chambers under the cloak of darkness for nigh a year now. Regulus was correct, in that this was the first time he had taken only one lover and spurned all others. He didn’t want to think of his hands on any other’s skin but Remus’—could not bear the thought of a single day in the future that he would not have this.

“I give so much to them,” Sirius murmured low, voice cracking like the lightning tearing open the sky outside the stone walls. “Let me have this. This is all I want.”

“Sirius.” When Remus finally said his name, Sirius shivered. There was so much intimacy, so much power held in his delivery of the single word, of letting go of all of the propriety and expectation and allowing them to be just Sirius and Remus within these hallowed walls. Within the sacred chamber where Sirius wasn’t his prince, but only the man who loved him. “I’ll love you how I can. As much as I can from here.”

“I want all of you.”

“Greedy, petulant, Prince,” he teased, but Sirius could see the sorrow in his eyes. It was easier to tease than to say _ I know. I want to be all of yours as well. I want what we can’t have. _

Sirius’ chest was tight and he looked away without answering, instead drawing Remus’ hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing each knuckle and then the open palm.

“It’s not that I don’t want this, my love.”

“I know.” Sirius sighed, leaning back and climbing off the bed. Remus rolled on his side, hand propping up his head as he watched Sirius pace the room. He paused to stare out the window, feeling as though the swirling storm of longing, yearning, and knife-deep ache in his chest that rattled his bones with every breath he took was more violent even than the raging tempest outside. Drawing a long slow breath, he let it out through his nose before turning back. Remus was still watching him, brow furrowed over glowing amber eyes filled with concern, and a fresh wave of guilt flowed through Sirius.

He crossed the room in three slow strides, hesitating. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to spend tonight.”

“You needn’t apologise. There is no way I would not enjoy spending the night, so long as I am with you. I am not here simply for the fuck. I share your concerns—I do, Sirius. I just...” He licked his lips and Sirius tracked the movement with his eyes. “I don’t want either of us to get our hopes up.”

White hot pain flared in Sirius’ chest, but he willed it not to show on his face, opting instead to toy with the button on the breast of Remus’ waistcoat. 

Remus sighed, a quiet little huff. “At the very least you could let me get more comfortable,” he teased lightly. Sirius smiled, removing the waistcoat with care and setting it aside. He pulled Remus’ tunic free from his breeches and slid his hands beneath it, skimming up soft bronze flesh and slowly drawing the fabric over Remus’ head. Remus shivered and Sirius leaned over him to trail kisses along the sharp jut of his collarbone and down his stomach. 

With a smirk, he tugged playfully at the sparse sprinkling of caramel curls below his navel until Remus swatted his hand and bucked his hips up encouragingly. Sirius obliged and drew his breeches down, breath hitching at the sight of gloriously pale, smooth skin that he never tired of rediscovering under the sweeping velvet cloak of night.

Wiggling his way back further onto the bed, Remus sighed contently when his head found the thickly-stuffed feather pillows at the head of Sirius’ grand bed. It was much too large when Remus wasn’t with him and made his presence that much more acutely missed. With him here though, Sirius took a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled perfectly lax on the thick covers with no sense of decorum. 

Sirius crawled up the bed, kissing Remus’ lips slowly before paving a path with his mouth down his jaw, neck, chest before pausing and let his breath ghost over Remus’ nipples. His tongue darted out to just barely flick the dark red flesh, Remus’ gasp as hedonistic as a pomegranate seed bursting in his mouth. He did it again, savouring the response as it peaked into a taut bud, ripe for picking. A hot bolt of arousal shot through him and Sirius wrapped his lips around it hungrily, hands sliding up Remus’ warm sids and slipping under his back to draw him even closer, cherishing the hot press of their bodies.

There were times that Sirius and Remus had merely a quick fuck, something squeezed between a performance that Remus had rehearsal for and a dull meeting that Sirius was supposed to attend as prince of the kingdom. There were other times they had all night and took their sweet time, toying with one another for hours on end.

Tonight, Sirius was filled with revarant, devout desire to take Remus in his hands and mouth and witness the sacred falling apart and hold him through it. To do so slowly, his entire focus on Remus and the swell of his body and the little sounds he was making. The strings of time were pulled taught tonight—in the wake of their conversation Sirius was left hyper-aware of how limited his days with Remus could be, that each night he gathered him into his hands could be the last they shared.

Remus fisted his hands into Sirius’ hair and Sirius groaned, teeth biting down carefully and savouring the way Remus arched into him, his hard prick pressing against Sirius’ stomach. Releasing the nipple from his teeth, Sirius leveraged his body to press Remus back down into the bed, mouth swallowing the wanton moan of arousal his partner elicited. He sucked Remus’ bottom lip into his mouth, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Releasing him suddenly to an offending gasp, Sirius sat up and drew Remus’ legs up to rest over his shoulders and slipped his thumb past dark bruised lips. Remus’ mouth closed quickly over the digit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with closed eyes. Leaning forward, Sirius bit down on the pale flesh inside his thigh. Beneath him Remus keened, back arching and hands flying back to grip the pillow in his fists as Sirius began to suck and lick the tender spot. He worked his way down to the inside of Remus’ knee, tracing it with his tongue while his spit-slick thumb stroked lower, circling his sweet hollow. 

Remus panted quietly into the hushed room but held still, head lifted enough to watch Sirius with those brilliant glowing eyes. Sirius held his gaze as his thumb sank into soft velvet heat, gently stroking in slow beckoning motions. Kissing his thigh one more time, Sirius pulled Remus’ legs further over his shoulder, nose tracing the underside of his twitching cock.

Removing his thumb, Sirius slipped two fingers into Remus, pistoning slowly before gently licking the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue. Remus cried out Sirius’ name before he grabbed his feet, pulling them toward his shoulders and folding himself lithely in half like an acrobat, legs spreading wider as Sirius used the flat of his tongue. 

As Remus began to cry out louder and more frequently, Sirius sent a very smug and unapologetic thought toward his brother’s room.

Beneath him Remus wrapped a hand around his cock and worked himself in time with Sirius’ fingers, body trembling with pleasure that encouraged Sirius to kiss and lick him more passionately. Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand where it was wrapped around his high, squeezing his fingers tight as he gasped and stiffened, eyes screwed shut and body wracking with tremours as he spilled over his hand in hot white strips. Sirius sucked the tender skin in wet kisses until Remus was gasping in heaving lungfuls of air, breathing Sirius’ name on each breath he drew.

When he stopped stroking himself, Sirius drew back, gently lowering Remus’ supine body back to the mattress and pressing kisses to each ankle before fetching his wash basin and pitcher to softly bathe Remus’ skin. Once they were both clean he drew back the blankets, crawling in behind Remus and pulling him close to his chest. He ran his hands up and down his sides, his stomach, his hips and thighs—memorising each bit of flesh anew—imprinting it on his brain that if there ever were a day he was denied this he would remember the feel of him beneath his palms. 

He kissed his neck until Remus stopped his wandering hands, threading their fingers together and setting them over his heart. “What has you so disquieted, my prince?”

“Just Sirius,” he begged.

Remus hummed, wiggling backwards to get even closer. “Alright then, just Sirius, what can I do to calm your fraying nerves?” His voice was honeyed and thick with sleep, and Sirius pressed one more kiss just behind his ear, before burying his face in soft curls.

“Be here in the morning.”

“I’ll meet you in our dreams, and be right here at dawn, my love.”


End file.
